Salem, Massachusetts

[Maryanne]With Kyle away, chores completed, and my week long transit pass with only one day remaining, I decided to take a side trip to Salem - home of the infamous witch trials of the late 1600’s. Aside from that notoriety, it was also one of the major shipping ports for early America, a picturesque New England town, and somewhere I’d long been curious to visit.

Scenes from old Salem

Let me start with the witch stuff since I did decide to attend one of the tourist-focused witch trial museums. It gave an interesting, if over theatrical, presentation of the key events, but for a fee, and with no more information than could be learned from the free National Parks center film just a short walk away. These and several other presentations did, of course, acknowledge that there were no real witches during the trials, just local hysteria, fear, spite, and power seeking.

The rules for what makes for valid legal evidence in a trial were clearly broken during the witch trials (which allowed spectral evidence), and I much preferred the presentations that put emphasis on this area, rather than the hocus-pocus rubbish. All the presentations I saw made quite interesting links with another period in USA history: the 1950’s McCarthy era where many were in dread of being declared a Communists (rightly or wrongly) where lives could be ruined by a spiteful accusation and with little ability to prove innocence. Strangely today in the USA the term communist is still seen as a significant insult (I’m not so sure about the term witch!).

One very surprising fact I did learn, is that of the modern day 40,000 population of Salem, 4,000 are self-described practising Wiccans (I was not able to verify this). Oh boy, I guess the place is a magnet for them. The religion of Wicca is a relatively modern one, invented in 1940s in the UK, from ideas based on research that have long been proven incorrect. It arrived in the USA in the 1960’s and basically brings together different practices from a number of ancient belief systems (Pagan, Greek, etc.), adds in the belief in spells and a little more nonsense, some occasional nudity, and there we have it: Wicca. Oh, except each Wicca group seems to add and subtract whatever it feels like so there is no central official set of beliefs. It is however a nationally registered/protected religion in the USA. What does Wicca have to do with the Salem witch trials? Nothing, but this does not seem to matter.

Although I can enjoy the entertainment value of shows like Bewitched, I have little tolerance for the modern day belief in witchcraft (zero evidence for, and plenty of people making money!), and was really rather shocked that the town was so filled with so many spell shops that advertised with full seriousness and no whimsy… Of course they are not ‘true’ to any particular form of the paranormal, and mix psychic readings with crystals and the like – anything to make a buck.

Salem Witch Memorial to those who lost their lives due to torture or hanging as a result of the scandalous trials

There was a very respectful memorial to those who lost their lives during the Salem Witch Trials, and I was glad of that – although amazingly the full exoneration for some didn’t take place until 2001.

With witches ticked off the list, I focused on some of the many other sights that Salem has to offer. It is one of the USAs older towns, and had managed to retain many buildings from the 1600’s and 1700’s. It is the birthplace of the National Guard, and has a long and important maritime trading history. So successful were they in sending ships out to trade internationally, that for some time it was the richest (per capita) city in the USA. The author Nathaniel Hawthorne was born there and worked there for some time; many of his books have strong story links to Salem locations (e.g. The Scarlet letter, and the House of the Seven Gables).

Nathaniel Bowditch, well known among all sailors, was also born in Salem, and his book (according to Wikipedia) Bowditch's American Practical Navigator, first published in 1802, is still carried on board every commissioned U.S. naval vessel. We certainly have a (digital) copy aboard Begonia. In honor of its nautical past, the town also provides a waterfront walk with information boards and stations providing nautical knowledge and play along the way.

The Friendship of Salem, and nearby Custom House

The Friendship of Salem built in 2000, is a full size reconstruction of a 171-foot (52 m) three-masted East Indiaman trading ship originally built in 1797. This ship is owned and maintained by the National Parks (so you can visit for free!); and I enjoyed pottering around in her, and later an official tour which included the nearby Custom House.

I didn’t find the time to visit, but Salem also has the Peabody Essex Museum, filled with exotic treasures brought back by sailors from Asian trading ports.

One of the interesting nautical themed presentation stations, and the curious Boston Typewriter orchestra

What did fill my spare time in Salem was the Poetry festival that coincided with my visit. I was able to attend some of the readings, and even an outdoor music show presented by the Boston Typewriter Orchestra (I kid you not). Quite a day!

Aside from the modern day witch silliness, I really enjoyed Salem, and was lucky to have yet another sunny day to enjoy her offerings.

Three (more) Days in Boston

[Kyle]I had a trip at work that did not allow me to get on a flight home the same day. There wasn’t enough time to get a hotel before the first flight out the next morning a few hours later, so I got to spend half of a night in a chair in the crew lounge. This provides a quality of sleep slightly worse than trying to sleep on a plane.

When I got home to Boston the next morning, I was still pretty beat. Maryanne was chomping at the bit to go explore, but was kind enough to let me have a few hours sleeping in a nice, flat bed before dragging me out.

Once I got some coffee in me, though, and once we actually got out into the beautiful spring weather, I was back to my usual explorey self. We started by taking the ferry to Charlestown and then walked to the Bunker Hill Monument for the 276-step climb to the top. The Battle of Bunker hill was the bloodiest of the Revolutionary War. Even though the colonists lost the battle, they inflicted enough damage on the British to convince them that they were up against a real army, turning the war in the colonist’s favour.

Monument to the Battle of Bunker Hill - a loooong climb to the top, but the views were great!

From there, we went to see the USS Constitution, a wooden, three-masted heavy frigate that is the oldest commissioned warship in the US fleet. We took the tour, given by active military stationed at the ship. It was pretty typical square-rigger stuff: cramped decks and LOTS of line (rope). I swear, a third of the weight of the ship must be line. They must get a bulk discount. Below decks, and in the accompanying museum, the details of life aboard such a ship were made clear. It was cramped, smelly, dangerous work with awful food. It’s hard to imagine anybody willingly taking it on. There was much resentment at the time of the British pressing Colonists against their will into service on British ships, so patriotism and revenge were drivers. Also, the pay was actually more than a typical farmer or shopkeeper, even more than the Marines that were also carried aboard, so that must’ve helped.

Exploring the USS Constitution - Maryanne seems to prefer steering to climbing the rigging, and Kyle wonders if we could find a home for this spare anchor

I was really impressed with the Captain’s quarters, which were about the size of the combined officers’ quarters and much more luxurious. I particularly liked the four-poster beds with the little glass wing cabins on each side. They were like little private solariums. If I were Captain, I’d want to spend all of my time there when we weren’t being shot at.

Another thing that impressed me in a different way was the ship’s history. Since she was commissioned, the Constitution has spent basically two entire years out of every five in port for refitting and maintenance. That’s even after having a full-time crew of hundreds performing constant upkeep along the way. Wooden ships are a lot of work.

From the Constitution, we started making our way back to Begonia on foot with some delicious ice cream we found for walkin’ around food. We crossed the bridge back into Boston and were meandering our way back toward the boat when Maryanne realized our timing was good to make the opportunity to visit the top of the Custom House Tower, now a very upscale Marriott, so off we went. {Maryanne: The Customs House Tower was added onto the original dome structure (to provide additional office space in the early 1900's), the tower once dominated the city, but has since been surrounded by modern sky-rises. The tour was much more than we expected, a private tour, with excursions to view the clock face mechanisms, and the cctv footage of the tower's nesting peregrine falcons}

A trip to the top of the tower - and sunset view with the tower reflected on the glass buildings. Cocktails were great, as was the additional unexpected entertainment!

We entered the beautiful lobby and bought two tickets for the tour-and-a-cocktail. In short order, we were escorted to the viewing floor by our own personal guide who told us more about the history of the building, the streets and buildings below, and Boston in general than we could ever remember. When he was done, he let us potter around on our own as long as we liked. It was starting to get a bit chilly, but we managed to hold out until we saw the sunset from up there.

We went down to the bar on the 2nd floor to cash in our drink coupons. We then planned to enjoy them in the quiet ambiance of their beautiful lounge. Instead, we came through the connecting door and arrived just at the start of… Well, I don’t know what it was. A presentation? A show? It was a re-enactment of 17th century parlour entertainment by a pair of musicians in period garb. I forgot about that. There was a sign in the lobby where we bought our drink tickets. I remember remarking to Maryanne at that time that it wasn’t my thing.

So now we were in the middle of it, where a graceful exit was impossible. Just for the record, I’ll go ahead and say it: I was wrong. We (that includes me - see previous) had a fabulous time. The musicians played songs, sang, told jokes (bad 17th century ones) and engaged the rest of us in parlour games. The woman of the group even played on a 17th century violin built a couple of generations before Stradivarius. Being there was so much more instructive than reading about it on a museum board. People back then had fun! - The ones not on ships, at least.

A Busier Day

I started off with a nice, hard run first thing the next morning around the waterfront and then all of the way to the far side of the Esplanade in clear, warm spring weather. Since Boston is such a runners' town, running along the Esplanade feels like being in a race. There are plenty of people keep pace with, pass and be passed by. When I got done, I was pretty wiped out, but poor Maryanne had been waiting on me before starting the day’s tourist itinerary. I quickly freshened up and we were off again.

Our first stop was at a place called the Mapparium in the Mary Baker Eddy museum. The Mapparium is a three-story diameter stained glass globe that is viewed from inside at the middle. The countries are all inverted so that they appear in correct relation to one another with only the curvature of the sphere being the wrong way. So the United States, for example, is still to the left of Europe, but is concave instead of convex like on the surface of a standard globe. Inside, there are also some pretty cool acoustic effects. In the very center, all of the sound is reflected back so the slightest noise is greatly amplified. People at opposite ends are also able to hear each other’s soft voices much louder than people in the rest of the room. Unfortunately, they were pretty strict about the “No Pictures” rule, so you’ll just have to imagine.

Being sailors and cartography buffs, the Mapparium is what drew us into the Mary Baker Eddy Museum in general. The Mapparium is only a small part of a much larger building that is also stunning in it’s own right. A complex of buildings with a similarly ornate and grand architecture surrounds this building. What we did not know until we had already forked over our $6 each to see the Mapparium, is who Mary Baker Eddy was. It turns out she was the founder (in Boston) of the Church of Christ, Scientist. The entire complex turns out to be a thinly veiled recruitment and indoctrination center for the Christian Scientists. We stayed long enough to try to search for any real science in the literature and displays before beating a hasty retreat. {Maryanne: The really cool thing about the Mapparium, is that as you stand in the center, all the surface is the same distance away, so the scale of each country and distances are true - you don't get that from a map (which is distorted to fit on the paper somehow), or even from an ordinary globe, as the surface itself curves away from your eye, and again distorts scale and distance. Again we had a private tour as no other visitors were there, so we were able to ask questions and play with the acoustics without worrying we were disrupting someone else's tour}.

Christian Science complex - Beautiful inside and out: home of the Mapparium, and Christian Science Monitor among many other things

Next stop was a quick pass through the beautiful Boston Public Library and then a pause at the Marathon bombing sites and memorial.

We had walked a long way and were getting hungry, so we stopped for a meal at a Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown before our next tour. I like Vietnamese food (Pho Pasteur, extensive menu and great price!), and this stuff was good, but I don’t think I get how to eat it. I did what I normally do in restaurants: Pick something that looks good, order it and then eat it when it arrives. Yummy! It seemed, however, like all of the Vietnamese people in the restaurant (always a good sign) had much more elaborate rituals for their food. The guy next to me spent a good twenty minutes tinkering with the already prepared food after it came to his table. He took fresh mint leaves that were brought to the table as a garnish and carefully tucked them into the bottom of his soup around the outside of the noodles to steep. He then started adding this and that, before separating the dish into two bowls that ended up with vastly different ingredients. These were then eaten in what appeared to be a specific intended order. Everybody else at the table did pretty much the same thing. Here I was thinking, “Oh, yummy food! I’ll just go ahead and eat it.” I’m so uncouth.

Following the Vietnamese meal, it was time for a ghost tour. There are two main companies that do these in Boston. One let’s you spend a lot of time playing with ghost hunter “equipment” and seemed to be heavy on the paranormal. Maryanne, not being one to believe a cold spot or a wifi signal is incontrovertible proof of ghosts, chose the other one. It was only slightly better. The guy giving the tour did not seem good at public speaking. He kept losing his train of thought and going off on tangents. For the paranormal part, he showed us a few pictures of “orbs” – artefacts caused by light scattering in camera lenses – and telling us fourth-hand anecdotes in an attempt to creep us out with how haunted everything was. I caught Maryanne rolling her eyes at me a lot in response to one thing or another. It wasn’t all for naught, though. We got to see some nice stuff when it was lit up at night and there were some interesting historical titbits that made their way through, particularly how the Boston witch hunts eventually led to the more famous ones in Salem (through the ‘helpful’ guidebook published by Cotton Mather who is a key figure in both locations).

By the end of the tour, we had put in a lot of miles on foot for the day. Maryanne wasn’t wearing the best walking shoes and was starting to limp on both sides. My feet were okay, but I was struggling with a lot of leftover soreness from the run. We briefly considered getting the train back, but the nearest station was only slightly closer than the boat. It was also the other way, so we decided to just dig in and walk home. I had been looking all day for a place to get an ice cream, like we did the day before, but had so far had no luck. I was hoping we’d still be able to find some on our limp home. We found lots of bars, but no ice cream. Perhaps tomorrow…

An Extra Day

For some reason, Maryanne thought I had to go back to work a day earlier than I did. That gave us a bonus day, so to speak.

So even though I was still sore from the day before, I eventually got up the motivation to go for my morning run. It was the same nice weather, the same race feeling, only this time I was a tad slower. I did get to see the year’s first goslings – four adorable little puffball Canada Geese that couldn’t have been more than a couple of days old.

When I got home, I wasn’t feeling motivated for an ambitious day, but I was willing to do an easy one. I decided we would tackle the previous day’s ice cream problem first; just to make sure it’s done. As usual for us, once we were out and about, we wandered for four or five miles looking at whatever took our fancy while performing more mundane errands along the way. At the end, we found a good second-hand book store to help us weigh down the backpack. Then it was back to Begonia, as I had to get up early and we both had boat jobs to do, most of which Maryanne has already written about. One thing, though: I think she made our steering problems seem much worse than they turned out to be. The bent and cracked parts were the starboard limit stop bracket and the plate that connects the autopilot hydraulic ram to the steering linkage. The rudders, the cables, and the actual steering system itself are just fine. This is all good since on returning from work next, I plan to leave on the next available tide. Farewell Boston!

More Boston: Work, Play and Reflection

[Maryanne]Back in July and August of 2008 we’d visited Boston aboard Footprint for an extended stay (moored in Hingham, just to the south) . Unfortunately much of that time had us distracted with transmission issues and eventual replacement, but we had at least managed all the traditional major tourist hot spots of Boston, and Cambridge. This current visit, despite our much more central location, found us more laid back as tourists, and happy just to wander and see what we might discover. This was very much easier to do given the unexpected sunny weather we are experiencing, and the spring blooms decorating the views.

Once Kyle had headed off to work, I had laundry and a few basic chores to occupy me. We also had a new outboard motor to play with (a first for us, Kyle must be getting soft). We have a Torqeedo Travel 1003 which is an electric motor (quiet, no fuel to carry and spill, no oil changes, just a battery to keep charged). Kyle and I, it seemed, quickly had different philosophies concerning the motor. To Kyle it was for use in extreme cases (when we were a LONG way from land, weather was bad, etc), otherwise he expected we could still row or sail the dinghy everywhere we needed to go. I was taking a FAR more laid back approach – keen to delegate rowing and sailing to fun activities when conditions were just right. With a motor I could explore further afield, get places faster and with less effort… Hmmm how would we resolve this discrepancy?

One of Kyle’s concerns was that re-charging the battery would be an issue, and we should therefore conserve it by rarely using it; I set to test this theory and so far have managed to confirm this is NOT the case (yay for me!).

Another concern we both had was security for the motor and its parts (battery and tiller) if we were to leave the dingy at the marina dock, or on a remote beach somewhere while we explore inland. We’d searched the internet for ready-made items for this cause, but with no luck, and the manufacture themselves do not have any suggestions. To counter Kyle suggested we could just carry the readily removable items around with us (er, normally I’m going ashore to gather supplies, I really don’t want to start with a full and heavy backpack darling). I countered with a crude solution of fiber-glassing a D-Ring on to the tiller and planned to secure it to the dingy with a security cable (the battery already had a suitable handle to put a cable through). It would work, but was cumbersome.

So imagine my amazement when I pulled up at our Boston marina dingy dock one day, only to notice another dinghy with a Torqeedo (still a rare motor), and better still, one with an excellent, and far superior security bracket. I set to work to research again, and found not only the source, but also determined the owner of the dingy was also the fabricator of the bracket, AND that he had a boat in the same marina. Wonderful. Through this exercise I now have a great security system for the Torqeedo, and have met and befriended the wonderful Ron and Denni who also indulged us in a tour of their boat Sea Dragon – a beautiful 16m Alubat Cigale, a French aluminium monohull.

Our Torqeedo is now very secure mounted on our Portland Pudgy

This meeting of the Sea Dragon and her crew was to prove all the more fortuitous when we realized on returning to Begonia one evening that our steering wheel was full over to one side (having jumped its jury-rigged lock we had in place), and jammed, and that some of the hardware below decks was bent, and some even cracked. This is seriously bad. Kyle was not happy. This could seriously impact our plans. I was very relieved to know that Ron had all the skills and equipment to assist us in repairs (which he kindly did, very promptly, and I’m sure by pushing other work around in his schedule). Whew, disaster averted, and without interfering with our sightseeing at all! We now also have a superior steering wheel locking system.

We spent the first few days here trying to track down an annoying noise, at first I thought it was something loose in the rigging, but whenever I heard it and dashed outside to locate it, it would go away so I considered it might be coming from below, and I started to consider a propeller or rudder issue. Eventually we worked out it is the noise of the occasional passing subway train - from the tunnel that passes directly beneath us, the clattering track noise passing through the water and our hull. I get a much easier sleep now we've worked that mystery out!

Enjoying the weather, food, and excursions

It’s not all been work, strange noises and repairs though, while Kyle has been away I’ve walked some of the harbour trails (especially those areas where downloadable audio tours are available), and revisited the parks and generally got to know my neighbourhood. I make regular trips to visit the seal tank at the aquarium to watch them at play, and so on. I’ve indulged in crab cakes at water front shacks, and walked beaches further out of the town; making full use of my seven day travel pass. It’s been fun.

One area I was determined to visit, although with very mixed emotions, was the site of the recent Boston Marathon bombings. The two bomb sites aside from any remaining boarded windows are eerily normal high street scenes, clear of all memorial material, and discretely attended by police security, the areas fully open for people to walk by as before. The outpouring of sympathy and support messages has been constrained to the nearby Copely Square. This area is filled with a mix of home made signs, stuffed toys, messaged running items (caps and shoes), memorial candles, and such. A subdued and attentive crowd seems to be constantly present, some adding their names to boards, or finding a place for their own message or gift of good wishes. Boston Strong is the phrase that has captured the public response to this terrible attack, and it can be found everywhere, from T-Shirts to store window displays – a way for people to rise above the tragedy and see a way forward. In reading the many messages at the memorial site, I’m also reminded that the world is still primarily filled with good people. I still can’t fully comprehend my own emotions to the event or to the site, but I’m glad I was able to spend some time there, reflecting on these thoughts, and feeling hopeful that Boston is indeed strong.

A Beautiful Day in Boston

Beautiful Sunrise as we prepare to leaving the (now tranquil) anchorage to head into Boston proper!

[Kyle]The anchorage at Long Island (one of the Boston Harbor Islands) was perfectly flat in the morning at sunrise. We pulled up the anchor and had a quick trip the last few miles to the Boston waterfront with the help of a rising tide.

Since we’ve still managed to beat most of the crowds to the sailing season up here, we were able to pick up a mooring right in front only a water balloon’s throw from the dinghy dock or a soft shout from the people enjoying the public pier, or perhaps the other way around. (I didn’t!).

As we were finishing up our arrival checklist, Mark, the marina guy came out and offered us a dock for our stay for the same price as the mooring. Being able to step on and off of Begonia onto a dock tremendously convenient. The dinghy dock wasn’t too far, though, and the weather was supposed to be nice for the foreseeable future. Our mooring was in such a beautiful spot, and as the tide came in and out, we would have rotating-restaurant views as we swung on the currents. We decided to stay put.

For the first time all year, we got to launch the dinghy and go through that whole learning curve again. We rowed ashore. I had a long shower and shave (the beard was starting to get itchy) while Maryanne checked us in. Boston Waterboat Marina is small, but well equipped. The best thing, though, as I said before, is that it’s right in the middle of everything.

After a quick round-trip to Begonia to change, we headed out to tramp all over the city center. We had no itinerary, just a vague plan to wander in a rough circle. The only thing I specifically wanted to do is end up in the North End for dinner – Boston’s Italian neighborhood.

From the waterfront, we headed inland using our, “Let’s go that way because it looks more interesting” method. The first place we came across was the Quincy Market and Faneuil Hall, both packed with people out enjoying what was probably the second nice day of the year. The sun was shining. The trees were blooming. All of the tables at the outdoor cafés were full. It was a great day to be outside.

Boston Public Gardens - in early spring bloom and full of people enjoying the beauty

From there, we made our way to Boston Common and the Public Gardens. The grass was green there and the flowerbeds were all blooming. Lots of people were out having picnics or just enjoying a nice walk in the park.

The Esplanade and Charles River Basin - With the Hatch "shell" where many free music concerts are held. Sailing is encouraged for all with a very modest annual fee for unlimited use of boats and training

We made our way to the Esplanade at the Charles River (another fantastic public space filled with Bostonians enjoying the novel sunny weekend), along with tons of people out sailing in dinghies and small boats. It looked like a nice place to bring the Pudgy except for having (possibly) having to portage it around the lock and over the train tracks to get in.

We were getting hungry by then, so we made our way inland into the North End for an early dinner. One of the hardest things in a neighborhood like this is getting past all of the delicious smelling food on the edges to get to what you want in the center. I was heading specifically for La Famiglia Giorgio’s. We had eaten there before, the last time we were in Boston, and I remembered it as being the best Italian meal I’ve had. Actually, the meal we went out for with Pasquale and Enzo before we left Italy in 2011 squashed that one, but it is still the best non-Italy Italian food I’ve had. I hoped my memory was accurate.

We weren’t disappointed. The food was (again) amazing. I had Big Al’s Arrabiata with deliciously tender chicken and Maryanne had a Mushroom Linguine Cacciatore. I swear, each plate had a pound of pasta each, plus there was lots of bread and salad. After dinner, our server asked if we would like dessert. She said they had only one special dessert – a lava cake. I couldn’t imagine they sold many desserts here. Maryanne mused that one special dessert was literal. Perhaps they only make one and keep offering it to their overstuffed patrons until they sell it, maybe once only every few days, then they start making another one. I would have loved to be the guy to take it off their hands, but no way. Try the next table.

There was no way Kyle was not returning to this restaurant, he'd been bending my ear for days - I'm so glad we found it again... and boy did we need that walk back to the boat after such generous portioned and excellent food.

We waddled back to Begonia along the various piers of the waterfront (Maryanne made me walk the length of each one) in a vain attempt to work off our meal, enjoying the ambiance of the indoor/outdoor restaurants and the little parks. Boston really is a beautiful city. It was starting to get a bit chilly. I had optimistically dressed for the full midday sunshine, so was fine except in windy, shady spots. Maryanne was more pragmatically attired in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, giving her a more durable comfort. The walk back was increasingly a comedy routine where Maryanne would stop to make a big deal about examining a new blade of grass or carefully reading a historical marker while I shivered and pled with her to get moving. I know I could learn something here (I will NOT!), but being cold was actually part of my plan. I had to get up early for work the next day. Being comfortable would have made it way too easy to stay out late. I really needed to be home by sunset, and we were. Nightcaps in the wind protected cockpit as the city lit up was the perfect end of the day.

On to Boston (almost)

[Kyle]We spent another day hunkered down in Onset Bay waiting out unfavorable winds. Ordinarily, we would have used the extra time to explore. A big bay like this would have been well suited for setting up the sail kit on the dinghy and just pottering around the various nooks and crannies. The weather was just dreadful, though. That idea, or anything else that would have required venturing out of our heated cabin or, at the most, our rain and wind protected cockpit, had no appeal. We were glad we were already safely anchored with some time to spare so that we didn’t have to be out in it.

Days like these are one of the things I like about how cruising keeps us closer to the weather than most land-based pursuits, because we’re affected by it more. I like how I know the wind and rain are caused by a low-pressure system over Cape Cod that brings cold Atlantic air over the land where the moisture is squeezed out on us. How a cold front will be here tomorrow that will bring a wind shift to the south-west and clearing skies. The full moon is tomorrow, which means high tides and strong currents. With this knowledge, I can figure out which way Begonia will be facing at sunrise, so I know which way to tilt the solar panel to catch the first rays of the sun in case I’m still stuck in my warm bed when it happens. Better solar panel placement means more electricity, which affects how we can live our subsequent day. The weather, the Sun, the wind, and the stars are all things that have real importance in our lives as cruisers far beyond the level of trivia for the drive to work or to know what’s happening outside the window. {Maryanne: Kyle is abundantly cautious about our power consumption and monitoring. There were times on Footprint that we'd be low on power and need to implement disruptive conservation methods. E.g. at anchor I'd have to ration my computer usage to an hour a day, under-way we would only use the autopilot about 1/3 of the time (or less), and would not use the radar unless absolutely necessary, etc. So we were used to monitoring and being aware. We had no idea how Begonia would be. She has a bigger battery bank, a better wind generator, and more solar panels, but she also uses more power (the fridge works on 12V electricity), so it was something we'd have to wait and see. Luckily so far we have yet to have any enforced power conservation periods. Life is good, but I still appreciate Kyle's efforts to ensure they stay that way by tilting the solar panel just so!}

Usually, on a nice day, there’s a huge drive to get out of bed early in order to make the most of limited time to explore. Then it’s go, go, go until we arrive home tired and famished from a day of climbing a big hill or taking in historical spots.

Lousy days have an appeal of their own. They provide an enforced convalescence that would never be voluntarily taken when the weather is good and there is much to do. On these days, we get a chance to sleep in without the guilt of missing something. (I never realized how tired I was). We have time to talk and potter and read. Eventually, with nothing to do, we’ll spontaneously start taking care of minor, neglected jobs. The heads will get cleaned, the fuel filters changed, and that intermittent light will get rewired properly.

This rainy day, Maryanne made something elaborate for dinner the long, slow way while I read to her to keep us both entertained. When we were done eating, we switched and she read to me while I cleaned a mountain of dishes. All the while, the wind was howling and rain pelted the cabin top. The windows were so covered with raindrops that it was hard to see anything other than vague, gray shapes outside. Every now and then, I would forget where I was. At one point, when it was really coming down hard, I looked out astern past our solar panel and thought, “Wow, the weather’s so bad, I can’t even see across the river.” I was still expecting to see the Hudson back there with the Empire State Building beyond it.

I checked the forecast for the next leg. It looked like the next afternoon would have a twelve-hour window of nice tailwinds for the last push to Boston before turning on us again. At daybreak, the wind was still howling in from the wrong direction, although the rain had decreased to a cold drizzle. Our wind generator has this cool (or annoying, depending on your perspective) feature where it shuts down when the battery bank is full and it’s no longer needed. As the batteries discharge, it restarts and runs for a while until coming to a stop with a telltale clunk. The clunk can be annoying, but I like knowing it means our batteries are topped up. The wind had been strong enough over the last couple of days that it had only run a couple of minutes every ten or so, even with heat and computers going. By morning, it had not run for hours.

As afternoon approached, the wind made its predicted shift to the southwest and the sky began to clear. We put the mainsail up and motorsailed into the Cape Cod Canal on one engine at the last of the opposing current (and with a slight delay for the rail bridge). Within thirty minutes, the current was helping us along. Currents in the western end of the Cape Cod Canal are so strong that the only sensible thing is to go through with them in our favor. Unfortunately, with a subsequent trip up the coast, the currents end up being exactly against us for pretty much the remainder of the trip, although no more than a knot or so.

Entering and passing through the Cape Cod Canal - a sunny (but cold) day

Once out of the canal, we flew up the coast. Even against the foul current, we ate up the sea miles. The Athena is such a marvelous boat at sea! We were sailing downwind, but into opposing current, as well as oncoming swells left over from the previous few days and Begonia just flew over them smoothly. The wind slowly picked up and we reefed and reefed again, well before it was strictly necessary. I conservatively estimated that we wouldn’t make it to Boston Harbor until 2:00 or 3:00am. We dropped anchor around 10:30.

I had originally expected to anchor in the lee of Long Island (The Boston Harbor one) just as the wind died and backed to the northwest. Instead, we had arrived just as the southwest winds peaked. This left us completely exposed to the full force of the wind and two-foot chop. We set the anchor anyway, backed down hard and then put out more scope as insurance. It was pretty uncomfortable, but we knew it should only be temporary.

Maryanne had the special combination of being tired and being worried about the anchor in the bucking boat. She suggested I set an anchor alarm on our chartplotter. There would be enough wind to run it all night. As I was setting it up, she managed to find a cool iPhone app that will do it for us. We could leave the chartplotter off and save power by using our more miserly phones. Maryanne had previously installed a 12V outlet in our berth mostly for keeping our iPhones topped up at night. Throughout the night, as gusts hit, we were able to see from the comfort of our berth that we had only moved a meter or two before swinging back. We could then go back to sleep.

By early the next morning, the wind had shifted back to the northwest and decreased. The tide went slack and then began to ebb out of the harbor. Begonia slowly drifted from one side of her anchor to the other. At the appointed distance (50m), the anchor alarm went off. I had expected this as we had a lot of chain out. Groggily, I looked at the little screen. We weren’t at 52 or 55m and holding. We were at 63, then 64, 65, 67, 70, 71. Oh, Shit! Suddenly, it was all hands on deck. Battle Stations! We got to the cockpit as Begonia came to a gentle stop at the other end of her rode at 80m. Whew! Good drill everyone! Back to bed.

When we finally did emerge for good, we found glorious blue skies, bright sunshine and flat seas. For the first time in a long time, we skipped firing up the heater to take off the morning chill. The greenhouse effect in the cockpit enclosure was more than adequate to warm the boat up.

We had another day of enjoying doing nothing in particular. Mostly, we mused on how completely different the weather was from two days before. As the day progressed, I found one job or another to keep me occupied. Eventually, I decided to use the calm weather to refurl the sails. In the height of the previous night’s winds, the mainsail especially had been clawed down in fistfuls and shoved into its cover. I decided to raise it fully and bring it down slowly so that it could be flaked neatly along the way, making it fit into its cover better.

As the sail was nearly fully raised, there was a bang and then the halyard went limp. The mainsail came rumbling down the mast. I heard two bangs and then two splashes. Well, that’s not good. Our mainsail halyard has a 2:1 purchase. The end is tied to the top of the mast and the mainsail is raised on a pulley (called a block by sailors) After some investigation of the wreckage, we determined that the axle on the block had corroded through, splitting it and causing it to part. The mainsail was fine, the halyard was fine, although it was stuck in a loop at the top of the mast, but we definitely need a new block.

Broken block leaves the halyard at the top of the mast for Kyle to recover - what a brave guy!

Unlike the evening before, it was now flat calm. I rigged our TopClimber and went up the mast to grab the halyard with the help of a boathook. We made a temporary fix to the main just so we could raise it and stow it neatly. We are so glad the block didn’t explode the night before when I was cranking up the luff tension after reefing. It wouldn’t have been a huge problem – we would have just had to continue under motor – but it would have been at night in rough seas, instead of while anchored on a sunny day. Begonia is only about half as fast under power, though, so the trip could have been a lot longer.

Maryanne timed the big dinner to coincide with sunset and the rise of the full moon, which we got to enjoy in the cockpit. As I write this now, she’s researching halyard blocks and I’m facing a mountain of dishes.

Cruisers Again

[Kyle]The time finally came for us to leave our winter home in Weehawken. A couple of weeks earlier, the bitter cold of winter finally broke and we had a few days of gorgeous spring weather. The boaters in the marina emerged from their cabins bleary-eyed and disoriented like bears coming out of hibernation. Suddenly, the outside of the boats became useable. On Begonia, we ate in the cockpit. It was as if our cabin had doubled. Our Webasto heater went from being needed continuously when we were home to just taking the initial chill out if the early morning air. I finally was able to do my morning runs along the Hudson in shorts.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. By the time we actually set off, winter was once again winning the battle and doing things outside could only be accomplished after prodigious bundling up first. Several people wondered out loud why we didn’t just wait until it was nice again before taking off. The main one is that docking rates in the marina are WAY higher in the summer. Staying for even one more month would cost us more than we had paid for the entire winter. As much as we love it, New York is not a place we can afford to be in the summer. The other main reason is that I still have to work. Time off from there is increasingly difficult to get and I have to make the best with what I can, even if it’s not ideal. With limited time off, we have fewer sailing days, effectively making us slower cruisers. The best way to make the most of the summer sailing season is to start early and sail farther per day than we would generally like so that we have time left over to see the places we go.

When my big block of days off work started, the wind was mostly forecast to be strong and against us with the exception of two widely separated days worth of strong tailwinds. My initial plan for our next leg to Boston was to do short to medium day sails for a week, anchoring along the way every night. The latest forecast made it pretty clear that most of these days were going to be long, miserable bashes into the wind. The new plan changed to sailing straight through to the fifth stop, anchor for a couple of days to wait out headwinds, then make another big dash into Boston before we got pinned down again.

In order to do this, we needed to leave at the first slack water after I got home. I arrived late and exhausted after a day of weather delays and only had time for a fitful hour and a half nap before I had to get up again and get going. Maryanne had completed almost the entire departure checklist the day before, so there was little left to do except make a big pot of coffee, give the weather one last check and untie the lines. As the appointed time arrived, our friends from F-dock, Andy and Robin from Sotito and Michael from Justine arrived to wish us bon voyage, give us big hugs and help cast off our lines. Robin had also made us a box of cookies to keep us going for the journey. Earlier in the week our friend Kate had also sent us a cake; we would not be hungry.

We were in the river just as the ferries started for the day. We had escaped having to ride out their wakes in the marina while Begonia surged back and forth. We got our big mainsail up and were quickly dashing down the Hudson and making the turn at The Battery into the East River. Manhattan is so beautiful from the water.

Leaving Weehawken at slack water unfortunately put us in the East river right at maximum ebb. The buildings of Manhattan blocked most of the wind. What was left seemed to swirl in from every direction. We tacked a few times, jibed a lot, had great burst of speed forward followed by being pushed backward by the strong current. Ordinarily, I would patiently play the wind’s game until the current reversed in our favor, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how far we had to get and how all of the good wind in Long Island Sound wasn’t going to be there much longer. I started the starboard engine to “help” our poor confused mainsail. This gave us steady, albeit slow progress forward. We inched our way through Hell Gate and made the transition into the sound. Passing La Guardia airport, the wind steadied and we were finally able to shut down the engine. The wind increased as the current died off, then grew in our favor, catapulting us into the sound, where the water changed from ugly brown to a clear, pale green, and bringing smiles to our faces.

Leaving New York

As I watched the New York skyline recede, It was strange to realize that it would be a very long time before we would see it from Begonia again. Our minds trick us into thinking New York is a natural stop on the way back south because it is along the coast. The truth is that New York is at the end of a pretty big indentation in that coast. It is actually much shorter to take the offshore cut across the gap. New York ends up being significantly out of the way. If the weather were just so and I had more time off from work than I do, we could make it happen on the way back south, but probably not.

We managed a brief chat on the radio with our friend Mark as we sailed past City Island. He was stuck ashore repairing Hurricane Sandy damage at his yacht club on City Island. Late into the afternoon, as we made it into the big open part of the sound, the wind began to decrease and the current once again turned against us. Our average speed dropped and dropped. I had a running calculation in my head of the average speed needed to get us to our intended anchorage before dark the next day. This calculation was requiring a greater and greater level of optimism for success. The current would turn in our favor again and there was still plenty of time before the sunset after next, so I decided to wait it out for a while and reserve any possible panic for later.

By nightfall, I had had it. Two days of almost no sleep was getting to me and I had to turn in. As I went below, I asked Maryanne to try to speed it up a bit. She did just that. As I climbed into bed, the faint gurgle of the water past the hull changed to a whoosh, and then a hiss. Begonia’s motion increased. To the rushing water were added strange bangs and clunks that are still new to me – the only time I’ve ever slept on this boat while underway was the two-day trip from Ft. Lauderdale to Charleston almost a year before. In spite of the fact that I was exhausted, the strange noises and the worry about what they were and how Maryanne was faring kept me from sleeping except in the briefest non-rejuvenating naps. Later on, I could hear the wind in the rigging. Begonia would shake and I would hear Maryanne going on deck to reef the flogging sails before sheeting them in and rocketing off again.

Sunset on passage, feels like we have the world to ourselves

I came back on watch at 1am to find Maryanne sailing us through choppy seas at double-digit speeds. Begonia sped up a couple of knots more over the next hour and then stayed there all night. We passed our original day two anchorage at 3am and were screaming past the third at sunrise. Around number four, the wind finally gave out, and then slowly built against us.

We fired up the starboard engine again for the last push to our day five anchorage in Onset Bay just on the western side of the Cape Cod Canal. As the headwind increased, so did the drag our poor engine had to overcome and we slowed and slowed. I suspected our prop was also a little foul with growth, but it will still be several weeks before it will be warm enough for me to go overboard and clean it.

We finally made it to our anchorage, and Onset Bay, with an hour or so of daylight left. The last time we anchored here was in Footprint over four years ago as we went south in the height of the season. Back then, the entire bay was packed with boats at mooring and at anchor and we had to shoehorn ourselves into a spot too shallow for most others. This time, we were the only boat in the entire bay. Most of the mooring fields still had small marker floats in place of the real mooring balls. The trees were still mostly bare, just starting to bud.

Sunset drinks before collapsing in rest, and Kyle manages to catch the sunrise the following morning... not a bad home fo a couple of days.

We found a spot and dropped anchor. Since we had all of the room we wanted, we put out an extra 20’ of chain for insurance and after a celebratory glass of wine with a beautiful sunset we collapsed into our bed in an exhausted heap. We managed to emerge the next day just before noon to bright sunlight and strong winds in just the wrong direction for the next leg. There was frost on the decks and it was cold inside. With all of that wind and sun, we had all of the power we needed to run the heat for a nice toasty off day together. Finally, we are cruisers again.